more violent, as the public learned that this paralysis was not a matter of weeks, but of months or years. New Englanders as a class were a law-abiding people; but from the earliest moments of their history they had largely qualified their obedience to the law by the violence with which they abused and the ingenuity with which they evaded it. Against the embargo and Jefferson they concentrated the clamor and passion of their keen and earnest nature. Rich and poor, young and old, joined in the chorus; and one lad, barely in his teens, published what he called "The Embargo: a Satire,"—a boyish libel on Jefferson, which the famous poet and Democrat would afterward have given much to recall:—
<poem>
"And thou, the scorn of every patriot name,
Thy country's ruin, and her councils' shame.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Go, wretch! Resign the Presidential chair,
Disclose thy secret measures, foul or fair;
Go search with curious eye for hornèd frogs
'Mid the wild waste of Louisiana bogs;
Or where Ohio rolls his turbid stream
Dig for huge bones, thy glory and thy theme."[1]
The belief that Jefferson, sold to France, wished to destroy American commerce and to strike a deadly blow at New and Old England at once, maddened the sensitive temper of the people. Immense losses, sweeping away their savings and spreading bankruptcy through every village, gave ample cause for
- ↑ The Embargo; or Sketches of the Times. A Satire. By William Cullen Bryant. 1808.
